pain.”
Her eyes became haunted, as his surely must be.
“I don’t want to be alone tonight, Hancock,” she said, in a low, embarrassed voice as though she hated revealing a weakness. That she needed someone to comfort her and touch her even for just one night.
“You will not beg me for anything,” he said harshly. “I would give you the world if I could, Honor. I swear I would. If only . . .”
He closed his eyes, slamming shut the wishes and if onlys, knowing that path led only to unfathomable pain.
“Don’t,” she said, her voice filled with sorrow.
To emphasize her statement, she pushed a gentle finger to his lips. Unable to resist such temptation, he flicked his tongue out and sucked the tip of her finger into his mouth.
“No one is ever guaranteed a tomorrow,” she continued softly, tamping down the emotion, knowing it hurt him. And tonight she was determined they both forget their pain. Just for a few stolen hours.
“But we have tonight. Bristow is no threat. Your men will guard you well. Please, grant me this last request, Hancock. I would like to know how it’s supposed to be. I don’t want to die without ever knowing pleasure.”
“You’re so sure I’m capable of being this fantasy lover,” he said in a near growl.
She shook her head, her eyes flashing. “Fantasies are for people who can’t see or touch what it is they want. I don’t want a fantasy, Hancock. I only want you. And as I’ve never done this before, I’ll hardly know if you do it wrong,” she added ruefully.
“I won’t do it wrong,” he said gruffly. “I’d never touch you with anything but tenderness, as much as I’m capable of anyway. I’m not a gentle man. I’m rough and demanding. I don’t trust that I can be what you need right now. What I want would probably send you screaming and crawling under the bed.”
Her eyes widened, but not in fear or even shock. There was definite curiosity. And interest. Her face became flushed and her eyes took on a hazy glow that told him she was aroused by what he’d said, how he’d said it.
He hadn’t intended it to be arousing. He’d wanted to scare the holy hell out of her so she’d rethink this insanity. But the selfish part derived great satisfaction that she’d responded as she had, her lips parted in silent invitation.
God, the things he’d like to do to her mouth.
He put a tight clamp on the coarse, base ideas running circles in his brain and making his dick so hard it felt as though the skin would simply split under the pressure.
She deserved a gentle initiation. Not down-and-dirty fucking. He closed his eyes, swearing at his choice of thoughts. The idea of other men holding her down, raping her like mindless animals made him sick. His erection lost its rigidity and bleakness entered his soul.
“Tonight,” she reminded him, as though she had reached right into his mind and plucked out his thoughts.
She rotated and rose up over him, leaning into his chest, bumping her nose into his in a charmingly clumsy manner. But damn it, she had no business putting any strain on her stitches or further aggravating her injuries.
As carefully as he could and making sure she didn’t take his gesture as rejection, he eased her over onto her back and arranged her to his liking, inspecting every angle to ensure that he would cause no hurt to her wounds.
“You will lie back just as I have you,” he said in a husky voice he didn’t recognize. “You will not hurt yourself, tear your stitches or otherwise worsen your injuries.”
She swallowed visibly, her eyes glowing brightly with excitement, her lips full, cheeks flushed with desire. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his dull, colorless existence.
“I will be as gentle, tender and patient as a man ever was in making love to a woman,” he vowed just as he lowered his body over hers, fitting his mouth to hers.
He was careful to keep his weight from her slender body, not wanting to hurt her in any way. He couldn’t offer her anything. He couldn’t grant what they both desired most. But he could give her this one gift she asked for. He would make love to her and show her what it was like between people who . . . cared. The word whispered insidiously inside his mind, forcing him to acknowledge that on some level he did care deeply for Honor Cambridge.
He admired the hell out of her. Respected her. Thought her a woman without equal. He couldn’t conceive of what he could have done right in his life to have this one night with her. Right before he delivered her into the hands of evil.
He took his time, studying and learning her body inch by delicious inch. He kissed every mark, every bruise or wound and then lapped gently at it to soothe any sting he might have caused.
Her hands cradled his head when she could reach it as he continued his thorough exploration of her body. When she was quivering, not in pain, but nearly shuddering with desire, he became more aggressive and demanding, but still mindful of her fragility.
He sucked and nipped at her neck, quickly figuring out that it, like her breasts, was one of the most sensitive regions on her body. Or at least that he’d discovered so far. Her ultimate female nectar, he was waiting to taste, drawing out the anticipation—and hers.
Several times he got close, skimming his tongue and lips and then grazing his teeth along her belly and just above her soft mound. She moaned low in her throat and then made the sound of a frustrated woman nearing the end of her limits.
He smiled and lifted his fierce gaze, savage satisfaction gripping him when she returned every ounce of his ferocity in her own gaze.
And then finally, he gave in to what they both wanted so badly.
Using a feather-light touch, he brushed the tips of his fingers over the plush lips of her sex and then carefully parted them, inhaling as he scented her need and saw her delicate pink flesh glistening with the evidence of her intense arousal.
Still, he cautioned himself to go slowly. Not to overwhelm her. She was small. A fighter, yes, a scrapper who didn’t know how to quit. But she was delicately built. His hands easily spanned her narrow rib cage, easily trapped her hips in his firm grasp, holding her bottom captive against the bed.
He lowered his head and she whimpered low in her throat and then gasped sharply when he tongued her from her small opening to her taut clitoris that puckered and strained upward to receive the tiny flicks of his tongue.
He rolled the bud around with his tongue, teasing and tormenting, deriving every bit as much pleasure from the act as she was.
She was wetter, much more damp, but he still wanted to make sure she was ready—able—to take him. He was a large man in all areas. Strong, muscled. Lean. An ultimate weapon for destruction. And seduction.
Yes, he’d seduced women to get information. He’d never hurt even one of them, and he’d made damn sure he made the sex good for them. But for him? He had simply turned it off and performed by rote, never allowing himself to feel this kind of need—obsession.
He drank of her sweetness. So much innocence. He’d never had such innocence. He tongued and sipped until he had to hold her down to keep her from hurting herself.
When he was certain she was hot and wet enough to take him, he shifted his powerful body over hers and gazed down into her half-lidded eyes.
“Are you sure, Honor?” he asked even as his dick rimmed her slick entrance.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. Please, Hancock. Do this for me.”
He wanted to thrust in her so deep and hard that there was no separation between them. That for these precious few seconds, they were one person. One heart and soul.
But he mustered every ounce of control he possessed and eased carefully forward, watching her eyes widen as she stretched around him. And then a grimace touched those eyes and he halted.
“No,” she protested. “Either pull back or just push in. Quickly, please. I can feel something stretched, like it’s about to tear, and it hurts this way. Please make it go away.”
If he retreated, then she’d have
to repeat it all over again, and he’d spare her what hurt he could. Closing his eyes, gritting his teeth tightly as though he were experiencing the sweetest agony, he thrust all the way home.
She bucked upward, crying out, even as his hands had solidly anchored her hips. He immediately peppered her face, eyes, forehead, nose, lips, with kisses, “sorry” a litany between each kiss.
“I’m so sorry I hurt you, Honor,” he said, allowing the torture in his voice to tear free.
Her smile slid into the deepest recesses of his very being.
“Move with me,” she invited huskily. “It doesn’t hurt so much anymore. And if you . . .”
She dropped off shyly, averting her gaze.
His heart turned over in his chest.
“What do you need for me to do, baby?” he asked tenderly.
“Touch me,” she whispered. “Put your mouth on my breasts.”
He slid his hand between their joined bodies and stroked one finger over her slick nub and was rewarded with an instant surge of heated moisture coating his dick. He groaned even as he lowered his head to suck one straining nipple into his mouth, coaxing it to rigidity. He took his time, tonguing in and lapping, circling a damp trail around the puckered crest. Then he turned his focus to her other breast, giving it equal attention until she was breathless and moving restlessly beneath him.
“Now?” he asked, the words straining past his clenched jaw.
“Now,” she agreed, her eyes glowing with desire she didn’t try to hide from him.
He gripped her hips, not to hurt her, but to hold her in place, carefully anchored between him and the bed so she didn’t hurt herself. Then he surged forward. He withdrew, dragging his dick through engorged, highly sensitized flesh, each stroke of her velvety plush pussy sending electric shocks down his spine. His balls gathered tightly to the point of pain, but this wasn’t for him. He wasn’t taking. He was giving. His final gift to her.
He had to push that thought away as heavy, aching sorrow filled his heart, his lungs, his very soul. And instead he concentrated on making this as pleasurable as he hoped she would think it to be.
He pushed deep, holding himself there, closing his eyes and simply giving himself over to the rush of pleasure enveloping him. Sweetness that he’d never before known in his life surrounding him and pulling him further into its web of ecstasy.
“Please,” she begged, her voice hoarse with strain. “I need you now, Hancock. I’m so close . . . but I don’t know what to do.”
She sounded panicked and unsure of herself. He gathered her close, wrapping his arms around her fragile body, and held her as she deserved to be held the first time someone made love to her. Only his hips moved, undulating up and over hers, pushing deep and then withdrawing.
But when her mouth nuzzled against his neck and nipped before kissing a line to his ear and sucking the lobe into her mouth, he saw stars and his body was no longer his to control. It was hers. Only hers.
He powered forward again and again.
“Yes,” she moaned. “That, Hancock. That. Please don’t stop. I’m so close but I don’t know what I’m close to!”
The frustration and innocence in her voice drove him those last precious inches over the brink. He slid one arm down underneath her sweet ass and lifted her, angling so he could drive even deeper, and then he set a pace that left them both gasping, moaning, writhing.
Her legs slid around his, anchoring her to him.
“That’s it, baby,” he whispered. “Lock them around me and hold me tight. Trust me to get you where you want to go. Don’t be afraid. I’ll be there to catch you. Just let yourself go.”
After his second thrust, with her legs locked around his, she shattered in his arms, shivering, quaking, her cries splitting the night. The surge of wetness around his dick stole the last of his wavering control and he followed close behind her, making sure she went first, that she found her pleasure and release before him. Only when she was in the throes of her orgasm did he plunge deep and hold himself there, emptying himself deep within her body.
He’d never felt a sense of homecoming that rivaled the touching of two hearts, body and soul. He knew he never would again.
CHAPTER 27
HANCOCK held Honor tightly in his arms as they lay side by side, ensuring that her injured side wasn’t the one she lay on or put any pressure on. Quiet had descended and neither made effort to disturb the peace that enveloped them.
She snuggled deeper into his embrace, as if she could burrow inside him and stay for all time. Didn’t she know she’d already done that? That no matter where he went in this life, he’d carry a part of her with him. And all the regret for what could never be.
He hated himself. His hatred was a living, fire-breathing entity that had taken on a life of its own, slowly consuming him until nothing would remain except the hollow shell of a man-machine. Because no man would ever allow the woman lying in his arms to come to harm.
She was silent, but as he gazed at her, he could see that her brow was furrowed and her eyes shadowed. He frowned. Had he hurt her after all? Did she regret what she’d asked him to do? Because there was not a single part of him that regretted making her his. Taking something that would never belong to anyone else. Her innocence. Her virginity. The honor of being the first man to have ever made love to Honor.
If that made him a primitive, chest-beating beast of a caveman, so be it. He’d certainly been called worse.
“What are you thinking?” he asked softly. “Did I hurt you? Do you regret what we did?”
Her eyes immediately became fierce. “No. Never! I will never regret this. It’s just that . . .”
Her eyes lowered and shame burned red on her cheeks.
He tilted her chin up with a gentle finger. “What is it, Honor? You must know you can tell me anything.”
“Even if what I say breaks a promise I made to you?”
This time his brow furrowed. She hadn’t made many promises. Only not to ask for another thing. Ah. That must be what she was grappling with. She had another request, but she felt honor bound not to ask because she’d promised she wouldn’t ask for more and she was a woman who kept her word.
“Tell me what you want,” he said, stroking his fingertip along her jaw until she leaned into his touch, closing her eyes with contentment.
“I know I said I would ask for nothing more than for you to make love to me, but . . .”
“But?” he prompted.
“But I would very much like to touch you. To make love to you,” she said earnestly. “I want to taste you. I want to give you as much pleasure as you gave me.”
He groaned. “Baby, if you don’t think you gave me pleasure, then we need to have a serious come-to-Jesus meeting right now. I have never felt more pleasure in my life than when we made love. Never.”
Her eyes widened with surprise. “But, Hancock, I was a virgin. I had no clue what I was doing! How could it possibly have been enjoyable to you?”
“Trust me, baby. If it had been any better, I’d be a dead man.”
Her eyes laughed at him, but then she sobered. “Would you mind so terribly much if I touched you and tasted you like you did me?”
“Men would kill for an opportunity for what you’re offering, Honor. I’m no exception. But I want a promise from you in exchange.”
She sent him a puzzled look.
“You will do nothing that hurts you. If I even think you’re in pain, it ends. I won’t budge on this, Honor,” he said, his tone grave so she’d know he was utterly serious. He didn’t want to piss her off, but neither did he want her in pain while trying to pleasure him, for fuck’s sake. He who didn’t deserve anything but hatred and cold disdain from this beautiful woman, inside and out. Who shone like a radiant ray of sunshine, warming places in him that had only ever felt cold and darkness.
But she only smiled, her eyes lighting, her expression so giving and generous that it humbled him.
“I promise,” she said sole
mnly. “But Hancock, just so you know? Getting to touch you and give you even a tenth of the pleasure you gave me will never hurt me. I want it too badly for pain to even register. Give me this. Give yourself this,” she added gently, almost as if she knew he felt he didn’t deserve it but that he also wanted it like he wanted to breathe.
Then her eyelashes fluttered and cast downward, her cheeks a dusty pink as though she were embarrassed.
Once more he slid his fingers underneath her chin, coaxing it upward so he could see into her eyes and see what bothered her.
“Tell me what is frightening you, Honor,” he said, injecting every ounce of patience and tenderness he was capable of into his voice.
She swallowed and then took a deep breath. “I’m not sure how to please you, and I want that very much, Hancock. You gave me so much. I never imagined it could be like that. I don’t deceive myself into believing I can give you even a fraction of what you gave me, but I want you to feel good. I want what I do to you to feel good. But I don’t know how.”
The last came out in frustration, almost anger. Self-directed anger.
“Can you show me how to please you?” she whispered. “Can you show me what to do and how to do it?”
Already moisture beaded the tip of his dick, and her gaze was drawn to the pearls, seemingly fascinated. Almost as if she couldn’t help it, drawn to the sight, she leaned down and delicately licked one of the drops away.
His entire cock jerked and his hips bucked, curses tearing from his lips. His fingers formed tight fists, gathering the sheets in his hands as he held on for dear life.
She immediately pulled away, her eyes stricken, tears welling in her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she rushed to say, as if fearing she’d made him angry. Then she pounded her fist against her leg, causing him to instantly catch her hand to ensure she didn’t reopen the stitches at her wrists. He rubbed his thumb caressingly over her skin and then brought her hand to his mouth and kissed each knuckle. Every fingertip, drawing each into his mouth and suckling them.
Then he allowed each finger deeper entrance, licking at the tip and then the underneath of her smooth fingers, taking it to the back of his throat and then swallowing around it.
Her eyes widened in sudden understanding. He was showing her how to please him. How to take his cock in her mouth and please him.
“Honor, you did nothing wrong,” he said, not recognizing the tender caress that suddenly became his voice. He sounded throaty and seductive, like he was wooing the most important female in the world. One he must make his or die.
“God, if you did anything righter I’d shatter. Look at me, baby. See me. Really see me.”
Reluctantly, she lifted her eyes to meet his.
“Do I look like I’m not pleased with anything you’re doing? See me, Honor. See what you do to me. I’m as naked and as vulnerable as a newborn babe, and believe me, I do not like feeling that way. Except,” he said, drawing it out, “for you. With you. Only with you.”
She smiled then, relief lighting her deep brown eyes until they warmed him to his very soul.
“There is nothing you can do that I won’t love and be begging—yes, that’s right, Honor, I said begging—for more. You’ll have me on my knees and at your mercy for just a touch from you. Your mouth. Your nipples. Your body. I want it all.”
“You don’t mind my inexperience then,” she said in a pleased tone.
He gathered her face in his hands, tangling his fingers in her hair as he took her mouth in a breathless motion. Then he pulled back, still running his fingers through the silken strands of her hair as if he simply couldn’t get enough of touching her.
“I love that I’m the only man who’s ever touched you this intimately. I’m glad that I’m the only man you’ve ever touched so intimately. The only man who’s had his dick in your sweet mouth and felt the touch of that velvety soft tongue. God, what you do to me, Honor. Damn me to hell for taking such a precious gift when I have nothing to give you in return except heartbreak and betrayal.”
Tears burned his eyes and he did nothing to shield his emotions from her, something he would have never done in the past with anyone. No one saw into him. Not even his family. They caught glimpses, but only what he wanted them to see. Just enough so they’d know he did love them.
But Honor got all of him. Every single thing he’d spent a lifetime suppressing. Building impenetrable fortresses around the things that mattered to him until they simply no longer existed. He became what he set out to become. The ultimate assassin. No feelings to muck things up. No emotions to interfere in a mission.
But he’d known for a while now that his heart was no longer in it. That he no longer had a heart or a soul. Honor had been the final nail in his coffin and after this—her—he’d walk away and never look back. He’d live the kind of life Honor would have wanted him to have—or try. How could a man ever live with peace knowing he’d destroyed the very essence of good? Even if it was to take out the very face of evil and save thousands of innocent women, children and men?